


Four Little Words

by milfjuno



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Eating out, F/F, Porn with Feelings, Tender Sex, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24006682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milfjuno/pseuds/milfjuno
Summary: It’s strange, how we feel new and old to each other at the same time. New relationship; old memories.
Relationships: Buddy Aurinko/Vespa
Comments: 12
Kudos: 73





	Four Little Words

**Author's Note:**

> hi! buddy and vespa are both trans in this fic. this has no relevance to the fic. i just wanted you to know.
> 
> proud to be the first to post a vesbud thing, but i only did it thanks to the encouragement of the discord, so ty, and ty to consider-the-nexus and faintly for beta reading, and loonylu for offering to :). 
> 
> oh and also! this fic is vespa pov and she is quite self-deprecating at times.... i just want y'all to know i wouldn't ever say those things abt her i love her....

“Would you like to try, love?”

Buddy looks beautiful. She looked beautiful the day I met her, and beautiful every day I spent with her, and all those years we were apart I lived in fear I’d forget how beautiful she was.

I never forgot, in the end, but it still takes my breath away every time I lay eyes on her.

Her eye evaluates me, careful and questioning and comforting. She’s not wearing a shirt; she’s in an old bra I bought for her, years ago. Huh. It’s strange, how we feel new and old to each other at the same time. New relationship; old memories.

I have missed her so much. We spend almost every moment together and it’s still not enough to fill the hole her absence left in me. I miss her body, the way it used to feel against mine.

“Yes,” I tell her.

She smiles.

Kissing Buddy Aurinko is one of the easiest things to do. In a world where every tiny little action – brushing my teeth, making breakfast, getting dressed – is overwhelming and loud, there are no words for what it means to feel at peace.

When she pushes me back onto the bed, I start having to fight for that peace. My mouth opens against hers and her tongue slips between my teeth. It’s perfect, it feels like everything I ever dreamed of all those years we were apart, and—

My eyes are closed, but in the blacks of them I see a shadow move, close to me—intruder. I break the kiss with a gasp, pushing Buddy away from me.

“Vespa,” Buddy leans back immediately. “Love, it’s alright, there’s nothing wrong. We’re okay.”

The room is empty. I look from the closet doors across to the porthole window, and then fall back onto the pillows, “Fuck.”

Buddy sighs softly. She cups my face with the side of her hand. “We can try again another—”

“No,” I sit up, shrugging her hand from my face. “No, damnit, I’m not letting this win—”

“Love, don’t push yourself—”

“I think I just can’t be underneath you,” I rush out at once. “It feels—like I’m trapped.”

I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t want Buddy to think I could possibly feel that way about her. I can’t meet her eyes. For a moment, there’s silence. I grip the sheets in my fist.

“Alright,” Buddy says quietly. She shifts on the bed, coming to sit up against the headboard. “Let’s try this, then. Come here, love.”

I take a steadying breath, and then I crawl into her arms. I swing one leg over hers and settle down into her lap.

Buddy smiles up at me. Her hands rest on my waist, then travel up to cup my face. She pulls me down into a kiss again.

This is better, definitely. I’m free to move, could easily reach for a knife if I needed it. That assurance makes it easier for me to lose myself in Buddy’s touch.

I want this to work so badly. I kiss her so she knows it, lips and tongue and shuddering gasps. Our kisses turn hot and heavy, Buddy’s tongue coaxes sparks from my stomach and noises from my throat. My hands are on her soft stomach, then around her back to the clasp of her bra.

She smiles against me when I unclip it, breaks the kiss and leans back so I can take it off. Her hands close around my waist again, fingers slipping underneath my tank top.

“Would you like to keep this on?” she asks.

She makes it so easy to laugh. “No,” I tell her, and kiss her as her hands slide under my top, breaking only so she can pull it over my head and I can reconnect us again.

Now we’re both just in our briefs. Nakedness is hard when you constantly feel like you’re being watched – harder still when your body isn’t what it used to be, when you’re sagging in the wrong places and your skin is rough to touch where it used to be soft. Age is beautiful on Buddy’s body – every way it has changed from the body I used to know is evidence, proof of the life she’s lived, of what she’s survived.

I feel more like an echo than a survivor.

She cups my breasts, rubs her thumbs over my nipples and moves her kisses to my neck. It’s warm and good, and not enough.

“Alright?” she checks, and I nod and shudder in her arms.

I don’t want to be slow. I want what we used to have, the way we used to be able to fall into bed together, when pleasure came so easily, when every second wasn’t a _fight_ for control of my own body’s reactions.

Frustration won’t help. Slow is good, too. I want this to work, so badly.

She kisses the base of my neck, and then bites gently, and I say, “No marks, Bud—the others—”

Buddy leans back and raises an eyebrow at me, “The idea of ‘the others’ doesn’t seem to stop Ransom and Juno.”

“Please,” I close my eyes, “Don’t talk about Peter Ransom in bed.”

Buddy laughs and leans up to kiss me again. I push her back against the headboard and kiss her hard, and her hands slide down my sides.

“Do you want to go further, love?” she murmurs.

“Please,” I breathe against her mouth.

Her hand moves from the side of my hip to the inside of my thigh, then across to the elastic band of my briefs. I can’t kiss her like I want to—I have to stay focused on this, keep in control of my brain to try and stop the voices, the feelings that try and take over me when I get touched like this.

Buddy slips her hand into my briefs and slides her finger down, touching my clit. I close my eyes, turn my head into her hair and kiss the top of her head to let her know it’s alright.

She moves her fingers in gentle circles. It feels so good – it’s been so long since I enjoyed being touched like this, by someone else or by myself. My breath hitches into her hair.

Buddy ducks down to kiss my shoulder, and her finger slides down to where I’m wet, so that when she touches my clit again I gasp.

“Alright?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I sigh, and moan when she rubs her fingers a little faster. My gut feels warm and buzzed and my hips begin to hitch gently against her hand.

“Vespa,” Buddy sighs. She leans back to look up at me, brushing her other hand over the side of my face. “You’re beautiful, darling. You’re doing wonderfully.”

The way she looks at me has me almost believe it. My head doesn’t even bother to react, with voice or feeling or something to throw me off. I lean down and kiss her, shudder against her mouth when the rhythm of her touch changes.

“Would you like my fingers, darling?” Buddy asks.

“Not sure,” I say.

“Alright,” Buddy reassures me, and kisses me again.

It’s so much all at once, the weight of Buddy’s support and her _love_ , after all this time, for me and my broken body and melted brain.

Something heavy and glass shatters just behind us. I scream, cowering down with my head in my hands to protect myself from the shards, but it’s too late. They’re digging into my back, my legs, the backs of my hands and—

“Vespa—Vespa, darling!”

I come back to my body. The glass isn’t there – never was, as if something as easily breakable as unreinforced glass would be on a spaceship.

“This wasn’t a good idea,” Buddy says, “I should’ve known after your first attack that—”

“Shut up, Bud,” I growl at her. Regret hits me straight away— like the icy-cold bite of Rangian pond water my father – the man who used to call himself that, anyway – used to push me into, and now I’m thinking about that and I can hear him, hear him—

“Vespa,” Buddy says again. Her hands land on my face – she must’ve wiped the other one on the sheets because they’re both dry – and she forces me to look at her, “Love. Breathe with me. You’re here.”

It takes a moment before I’m fully back. My breath shudders out of me.

“You know,” Buddy says, “This is the farthest we’ve gotten yet. Perhaps a few more tries on another night, and—”

“No,” I tell her. “No, I want to do this.”

Buddy gives me half a smile, “I know. But what you _want_ and what you’re _capable of_ —”

“C’mon, Bud,” I cut her off, shifting forwards in her lap, “What’s wrong? Scared you can’t make me come like you used to?”

She laughs, sharp and offended, “I assure you, love, my skills haven’t dulled in the slightest.”

“Prove it,” I say against her lips, and kiss her.

She kisses me back for a moment, before pushing away. “You always were good at that.”

“What?”

“Getting what you want from me,” she quirks an eyebrow at me. “You promise you’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

At my nod, she slips her hand back into my briefs again. It takes a little moment, but soon it feels _good_ again, and when I arch my head back to moan quietly, Buddy leans forward to kiss my neck.

“You never fail to remind me why I fell in love with you,” Buddy says against my skin. “You’re strong, and a deep thinker, wickedly funny – and beautiful, darling. Like this. I’ve dreamt of doing this to you again for years.”

“Yeah,” I breathe out. I want to tell her more, about how I dreamed of this too, the times where the thought of touching her again – in any way, shape, or form – were sometimes the only thing that got me through. But instead my body twitches when her fingers move just right, and it feels like I’m burning up.

I grind my hips against her fingers, lean down to kiss her as much as I can between gasping for breath. The burning rises, and fills me, and is so _much_.

I hold on. Focus on running my hands down Buddy’s chest and stomach. I break from kissing her to pant into her shoulder.

“Buddy,” I gasp, “Bud—”

“Stay with me,” Buddy mutters, “You’re almost there, love, you’re doing perfectly. It’s alright.”

It’s more than alright. For a moment, the aches and pains of my body are dull. My mind is perfectly quiet. All that matters is her fingers, my body, getting hotter and closer.

“Buddy,” I say on repeat, a chant that keeps me grounded as I climb. Pins and needles run up my spine; a hot, liquid feeling starting in my gut and growing in force, trying to take over me.

“Ah, _ah,”_ I lean my head into her hair. I’m close. I’m right there, I can feel it, “Bud. _Buddy_.”

“Vespa,” Buddy sighs, and leans forward to kiss my neck and—

I cry out, my thighs squeezing hers as I collapse into her shoulder. The feeling races through my body, electric and warm. It’s so _good_ , sending tremors down my spine, and as it fades I can’t help but laugh. Breathless, delighted.

“Oh,” I sit back in her lap, “Finally.”

She laughs, and brings me into a kiss. “Marvellously done, love. A perfect performance. How are you feeling?”

How am I feeling? Relief. Relief like I haven’t felt in... I don’t know how long. Like I’ve won a part of myself back from the sickness, a part of _us_ back.

I’ve never been good at taking what I think and putting it into words, not without feeling stupid. I never used to feel stupid around Buddy. But things change. So I just say, “I love you.” I lean in again and kiss her, “I love you.”

My lips trail down her neck, my hands running over her breasts and stomach until my mouth can follow. I can feel her heartbeat under my lips when I skim over her upper chest – a detail that reminds me she’s here, and I’m here, and this isn’t just another dream.

She gasps a little when I close my mouth over one nipple, brush my thumb over the other. I trail kisses down her sternum. Her hand comes to rest in my hair.

This is difficult. It’s hard trying to be slow, to allow the intimacy of this moment speak for itself. Silence gives my head room to sneak in little sounds – creaking of doors, gentle footsteps sneaking up on us. They frighten me, but I know not to look. I don’t have to. Buddy is here, and I trust her instincts as deeply as I trust my own. I want to give her this.

Buddy’s still sitting against the headboard. We shuffle on the bed so that her knees are up and I can lie between them, my mouth just above the elastic band of her briefs.

She breathes in sharply, then out slowly when I press my tongue against the cloth. I tuck my fingers into the elastic and pull them down.

“Vespa,” Buddy tips her head back against the wall with a sharp exhale when I lick her. Her hand clenches in my hair automatically.

I slide my hand up underneath one of Buddy’s thighs, dragging my tongue against her. It comes back to me easily – I can remember what she used to like, how she used to react if I did exactly—

Buddy gasps, “Oh, Vespa.”

It’s nice, hearing her say my name like that again. Makes me feel useful, wanted. I want that so much – I want her to realise I’m still worth the love and time she gives me.

I let myself fade into it – licking and sucking, one of my hands running over her thigh, the other reaching up to clutch at hers. Buddy breathes hard and fast, her hand squeezing mine and pulling at my hair.

“I love you, darling,” she manages, murmured low, “You’re beautiful, Vespa. I loved you the moment I saw you, and I—” she stops herself, her body squirming against the headboard, “—will love you every moment I get left to spend.”

She’s far too coherent. I press as close as I can, dragging my tongue across her clit in short, strong licks. Buddy’s breathing gets heavy again.

“Vespa,” she breathes, “Vespa. I lov—”

Buddy’s cut off by a sharp intake of breath, and she folds over. She comes with a quiet sound, and I lean up to press her back against the headboard again, kissing her through the aftershocks.

She wraps me in her arms. For a long time, we just kiss each other.

“Well,” she says at last. “That was nice. Alright for you, love?”

“Yeah, Bud. Fantastic.”

It is fantastic. Finally I’m a partner she can want again. A partner who’s willing to give her what she needs. Things are back to normal.

Buddy leaves to change into pyjamas. I put my tank top back on and decide to shower in the morning. The silence without her lets some of my fears creep back in. What if this isn’t the new normal? This happened, but only just. Only because I pushed through the voices. That isn’t always possible. What if I can’t do this again? She’ll wonder what’s wrong with me. She’ll wonder if there’s something wrong with _her_ , which hurts so much more.

I’m shaken out of my thoughts when the sheets rustle and Buddy slides back in to bed beside me. She bundles me up with my back against her chest. She’s warm, but even her presence isn’t enough to still my head.

She kisses my shoulder, “I’m glad we got to do this. I’ve missed you, love.”

My breath catches in my throat. “Yeah.”

“Let me know if you ever want to try again,” she tells me.

Buddy Aurinko has this funny little way of knowing exactly what you’re thinking without you saying it. She has this funny little way of soothing your thoughts without ever mentioning them.

 _If you ever want._ Four little words. I know what they mean – I know the thoughts that have run through her head for her to say them.

“I love you, Bud,” I say, and nestle deeper into her arms.

* * *

Someone knocks on the door.

It wakes me from sleep with a jolt, and Buddy rouses beside me. I shake my head, but the knocking doesn’t go away, and then.

“Captain Aurinko? I was wondering if I might have a word…”

I groan and stuff my face into my pillow. Buddy’s voice comes from near my ear, hushed and sleep-rough.

“Every day onboard this ship reminds me why we never settled down and had children.”

I laugh into my pillow and turn around and face her. She smiles at me from the blankets. I fall in love with her all over again.

“Captain Aurinko?” comes Ransom’s voice again.

“Jesus Christ,” I groan. “We should keelhaul him.”

“Be nice, dear. The poor thing’s an anxiety attack in stilettos.”

I snort with laughter.

“Coming, Pete,” Buddy calls out, and starts to move.

I stop her with a hand on her arm, “Hey.”

“Yes, love?” Buddy asks.

I pounce on her. I kiss her lips, shortly, once, then the side of her face. Then I put my teeth on her neck. She gasps softly, and I suck.

I don’t pull away until there’s a hickey standing out on her brown skin. I wipe the spit off with my thumb and grin at her.

“What happened to no marks around the others?” Buddy asks, a raised eyebrow and a smile dancing around her lips.

I shrug one shoulder and fall back into the blankets, “If it’s good enough for Peter Ransom, it’s good enough for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter @onenastyb0y for sneak peaks!


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